Impala-Sick Sammy
by bbgirl189
Summary: Weechesters, dealing with a very carsick Sammy


**Wee-chesters: Sam 13, Dean 17. On the way to a hunt Sam suddenly gets very carsick... And inside the impala. Minor language, my apologies.**

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Dean looked over at Sam, before turning his eyes back to the road. He knew something was up with the kid, but he stayed quiet about it. He had only been driving for about twenty minutes, when Sam fell asleep. Normally the kid was wide awake, but for some reason the thirteen year old was sound asleep.

He turned his music down, not wanting to deal with a pissy teenager. He slowed the impala down slightly, as the road was getting more curvy.

Sam groaned softly, shifting in his sleep.

"You're okay, Sammy." Dean said gently, not wanting him to wake up fully.

"Where are we." Sam mumbled, too tired to correct the name his big brother called him. He moved a bit, trying to figure out why his stomach was churning in discomfort.

"A mountain range about half an hour from Bryson City, North Caroline." Dean said thoughtfully, wondering why Sam was asking.

"Oh... Curvy roads." Sam mumbled weakly, closing his eyes tightly.

"You okay, kiddo?" Dean asked worriedly, not liking the voice Sam was using.

"Yeah, just gotta sleep." Sam slurred, wrapping his arms tightly around his stomach in discomfort.

"Let me know if you need anything." Dean said calmly. He looked at Sam out of corner of his eye, worried about why Sam was slurring and so tired.

Sam fell back to sleep, whimpering softly each time Dean went around a curve. His face went from slightly pale to extremely pale, in a matter of minutes. He shifted multiple times, trying desperately to stay asleep and ignore his upset stomach.

Dean stayed quiet, inwardly cringing every time he heard Sam whimper. He had thought that Sam had moved beyond getting carsick, so now he was confused.

He reached over and felt Sam's forehead with his hand, hoping not to feel a fever coming on. He was relieved to feel not much heat radiating from his little brother, indicating no fever. He turned his music off, wondering what was really going on with Sam.

Sam bit back a groan, as Dean hit another curve too sharply. He squeezed his eyes shut tightly, as he realized Dean had turned the music off. He had hoped to hide how sick he felt from his big brother.

He cleared his throat, repeatedly, as he tried to resist the sudden urge to vomit. He winced, feeling the contents of his stomach sloshing angrily.

"De," he groaned, fighting to not get sick before warning his brother of what was about to happen.

Dean looked around in surprise, thinking he heard his name but Sam appeared to be asleep.

Sam swallowed repeatedly, trying to resist his body's reaction to the curving roads.

Dean focused back on driving, oblivious to Sam's predicament. He hummed quietly to himself, making it so that he was surprised by what happened next.

Sam shot upright quickly, gagging and bringing up a small amount of liquid onto the floor of the impala.

"Shit! Sammy, you're okay. Hang in there." Dean said automatically, looking around frantically for a safe place to pull over.

Sam lurched forward again, bringing up his breakfast to coat the floor between his feet.

"I'm sorry," he whimpered out, gagging and retching after he spoke.

"It's fine, man." Dean said with a depressed tone. Of course the kid would get carsick in the impala, that they wereem style="box-sizing: border-box;" borrowing/em from their dad.

"Dad's gonna kill us." Sam panted out, trying to catch his breath and not get sick.

"Nah, we'll get it sorted to keep him from finding out." Dean assured, definitely worried.

"Can I sleep please?" Sam pleaded suddenly, as he couldn't keep his eyes open, even with his churning stomach.

"Yeah, go ahead, i'll wake you when I can pull over or get us to a motel. Let me know if you're going to puke again." Dean requested gently. He knew Sam couldn't always tell until it happened.

Sam nodded his head, dozing off quickly. He curled into himself, keeping his arms wrapped tightly around his stomach.

He slept soundly for a few minutes, before gagging hard in his sleep. He jerked awake, just in time, to throw up three times back to back.

Dean gagged in sympathy, as he tried not to notice that Sam's stomach contents had gravitated to his side of the car too.

"You're okay, kid. Let it out, you'll feel better soon. I promise." He encouraged, putting a comforting hand on his little brother's back.

Sam lurched forward, bringing up everything else he had eaten in the last twenty four hours. He coughed and retched for a few minutes, before finally stopping and breathing hard.

"I'm really sorry." he said shakily, cradling his head, as he was overwhelmed by dizziness.

"It's okay, Sammy. Stop apologizing and talk to me. How are you feeling?" Dean asked firmly, sighing inwardly in relief when he saw a motel sign for the next turn off.

"Dizzy and still sorta nauseous." Sam admitted softly, closing his eyes and leaning forward to lean his elbows on his knees.

"You're okay, we're almost to a motel." Dean said quickly, as he turned off the highway and onto the road to the motel.

He pulled onto the parking lot, opened his door, and ran inside to pay for a room. He ran back outside, opened Sammy's door, and gently guided Sam out of the car.

Sam doubled over, once he was outside, and started retching violently.

"Easy, kid, you're not even moving anymore." Dean said in concern, until he remembered that motion sickness tended to linger in its victims. Especially when it came to Sam and his system.

"Dizzy..." Sam panted out weakly, leaning into Dean when he stopping retching.

"I got you, Sammy. Let's get you inside, so you can sleep this off." Dean suggested, walking Sam slowly to their room. He quickly unlocked the door, guided Sam inside to the bed, and helped his little brother strip down to go to sleep.

Sam laid down, too dizzy to realize that Dean had undressed him. He huddled up under the comforter, falling asleep easily.

Dean shook his head, dropping Sam's pukey clothes in the tub. He grabbed some washcloths, filled the ice bucket with warm and soapy water, put a trash can beside Sam, just in case, and walked back out to the impala.

He stood looking at the vomit for a few minutes, working up the courage to clean up his little brother's foul smelling mess. After a few minutes, he rolled his eyes and got to work cleaning the impala, inside and out.

Besides a few gags, cleaning up was fairly uneventful and successful. He had gotten the mess and smell cleaned up, much to his relief.

He walked back into the motel room, to find Sam just waking up from a few hours nap.

"How are you feeling, kiddo?" Dean asked gently, unsure of what to expect.

"Aside from a headache, I feel fine. Did you clean the car?" Sam asked in surprise. Their dad would have made him clean up his own mess.

"Yeah, the impala's fine. No big deal." Dean said, with a shrug. He would clean up his little brother's puke a hundred times over, if it meant that Sam was good again.

"I'm kinda hungry, can we go eat?" Sam asked, with a smirk.

Dean glared at Sam, swallowing convulsively at the thought of eating.

"Just kidding, Dean. You just got really pale." Sam said with a laugh.

"Bitch." Dean said, rolling his eyes.

"Jerk." Sam replied, with a sleepy grin.

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 **I hope you enjoyed this medium-ish blurb. As always: please review, favorite, and request away.**


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